


Nobody Does It Better

by orphan_account



Category: Food Allergies (Anthropomorfic)
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-22
Updated: 2013-12-22
Packaged: 2018-01-05 13:24:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1094356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The problem with food allergies," Nightshade paused over her breakfast to observe, "is that we're all such a terribly incestuous bunch."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nobody Does It Better

"The problem with food allergies," Nightshade paused over her breakfast to observe, "is that we're all such a terribly _incestuous_ bunch."  
  
"What do you mean?" Citrus asked. The two were sharing a table at the hotel restaurant, nursing their hangovers from the night before with some severely necessary hair of the dog. Nightshade pushed around the remnants of her Denver Omelette and took another sip of her Bloody Mary, trying to find the words to best explain herself through the mental haze which the vodka and black pepper was only beginning to alleviate.  
  
"I mean, we've been coming together for this convention how many years now, twenty? Thirty? I can't even remember. We're not getting any younger, and there's been no new blood for ages to freshen things up. Every year it's the same old allergies, the same old bullshit. The same panels, the same debates: _'Which allergies are under-represented in our administrative organization'; 'How to hide allergens more effectively in ingredient labels'; 'Social justice for intolerances'_ and whether we should let them join the convention. I swear, I voted 'yes' this year just because we need some new faces around here, some new ideas! Someone new to have a drunken fling with after the Saturday night award ceremony," she added with a smirk, causing Citrus to nearly snort her Mimosa out her nose.  
  
"You are _so_ bad, Nightshade."  
  
"It's how I've built my reputation, isn't it? But come on, tell me you haven't hooked up with just about everyone here at some point in time. Lemons, oranges and limes...you go well with just about everything."  
  
Citrus was thoughtful for a moment, but then her eyes lit up and she exclaimed, "I've never done it with Yeast!"  
  
"Be glad for that. All you'll get out of the deal is a nasty infection."  
  
They both had a laugh and went back to their breakfasts, although Nightshade kept her eyes on the rest of the room, waiting to see who would be the next to stagger down for breakfast—and who that allergen would show up with, if anyone. There was one in particular she was on the lookout for, as much as it pained her to still be hung up on the bastard after all of these years.  
  
Just when she thought she'd gotten Gluten out of her system for good, just seeing him slutting around all weekend with that smug bitch Soy had been enough to leave her seething—and had no doubt contributed to her over-indulgence last night at Citrus' fruits-and-nuts room party trying to forget about it.  
  
But there were no signs of either of them yet this morning—nor Yeast, for whom, no matter what, Nightshade still felt an endearing affection for. They'd had such good times together in the past, the three of them: tomato pie, BLT sandwiches, and even bringing in Dairy for some real allergy-inducing fun with pizza and calzones.  She missed those days, and the panel yesterday reviewing the greatest allergy collaborations of the past had only brought those memories back to the forefront of her mind...  
  
"I thought the presentation on GMO vs Organic was interesting," Citrus said, interrupting Nightshade's musings. "Who knows, maybe in a few years will have some new mutant grains or vegetables that'll bring in a whole new wave of allergies!"  
  
"Maybe."  
  
"Are you coming to the workshop on Facebook food porn before the Dead Dog panel this afternoon? Sesame Seed's running it and he's always a lot of fun."  
  
"I don't know. I was debating heading to the airport right after this, trying to get on an earlier flight home. I saw on the post-board Dairy was looking to share a cab ride around noon today."  
  
"Ugh, Dairy. I try to avoid being around him too much...I mean, is it just me or is he always gassy? And you're going to share a cab with him? You're a braver woman than I am."  
  
"I'll just keep the window on my side of the taxi open."  
  
And there was Gluten at last, showing up alone this morning, at least, but looking too damn good for an allergy who'd likely been partying all night with the rowdy grains crew. His golden-brown hair was looking a bit disarrayed, but his eyes were bright and he was standing tall, a grin on his face and looking cheery—and tempting—as ever.  
  
He caught Nightshade's eyes briefly before she looked away and busied herself signing the room check. Yes, the sooner she got out of this scene, the better. And Sundays at a convention were usually depressing and sad anyway, everyone saying goodbye until next year or figuring out when they'd hook up next. "In fact, I think I'm going to head up to my room now and finish packing, get checked out before the 11am rush at the desk." She got up from the table and gave Citrus a peck on the cheek. "If I don't see you before I leave, have a safe trip home, or wherever you're off to next."  
  
"Thanks, Nightshade, you too. I'm heading down to Mexico to hang with Seafood for the winter, I think. It's so nice and warm and those tourists do love their ceviche. Want to come join me for a while?"  
  
"Maybe, I'll be in touch."

* * *

  
  
Normal folk didn't realize how much work it was, being a food allergy. Especially these days, as people were being so damned conscious of labeling ingredients, promoting "-free" diets, and altogether just taking the fun out of making people's lives miserable with cravings for the very foods that made them sick. While she packed her suitcase, Nightshade supposed she was still fairly lucky, compared to some of her associates; most people weren't making a fuss about "tomato-free" or "eggplant-free" menus yet, thank God. She still had a lot of room to maneuver, and enough variety to cause havoc in just about any cuisine.

Maybe she'd talk to Onion and Garlic some more this year about coming up with some wicked new trends to cause suffering among trendy foodies. The brothers were both a little unpleasant and pungent to deal with, but people tended to dismiss them as "serious" allergens to this day—making it was easy to sneak into menus of all kinds together and torment the afflicted. Citrus could be of help there as well, so maybe it was time to get into a serious salsa push in the year ahead. They could talk about that in Mexico, if she decided to take her up on that invitation.

Someone knocked at the door, startling Nightshade out of her contemplations. Thinking it was housekeeping, she said loudly, "I'm checking out in a few minutes. Can you come back?"  
  
"It's me, Shady," a familiar voice replied, and Nightshade's stomach twisted in a knot. Only one person ever called her Shady and got away with it.  
  
She wished for a moment she'd had a second Bloody Mary this morning at breakfast. She could use it before dealing with Gluten. But with a sigh—and a quick glance in the mirror to check her auburn hair, a little grey at the roots these days but still looking acceptable—she opened the door and met her old flame's grin with a weary smirk. "And how exactly did you get my room number, anyway?"  
  
"From Citrus, of course." He brushed past her and took a seat on the bed, next to her suitcase.  
  
"That little tart." Nightshade shook her head. Citrus was cute but boy, sometimes she didn't know when to keep her mouth shut.  
  
"You didn't think you could avoid me all weekend, did you?"  
  
"That was in fact my plan." Toothbrush, toothpaste, hairbrush. She'd left them out on the bathroom counter for after-breakfast, but now they could just go in her suitcase. She busied herself with the packing to keep from looking at Gluten.  "Although I should say congratulations for the well-deserved win this year, you and Yeast. The Cronut was a stroke of genius." The most coveted prize every year in the awards ceremony was for Food Trend of the Year—whatever hyped dish or concoction got the foodies buzzing and was guaranteed to make the allergy-afflicted miserable. Nightshade had just been glad it hadn't been Gluten and Soy for their damned Frankenstein of a sandwich, the bahn mi. She didn't want to think about what kind of orgy with Yeast, Cilantro, Dairy and Cucumber had lead to that monstrosity.  
  
"We had fun with that, but we always work well together."  
  
"I'm surprised Soy didn't try to weasel her way into the project."  
  
"You know she's more savory than sweet, whereas I love to swing both ways."  
  
"So is that what you want, then? Swinging back in my direction, are you?" She paused in front of him, arms crossed and impatient with his games. "Did she dump you for Sesame Seed again? I hear they've got quite a history." _Almost as much as we do._  
  
"Next year could be a good year for us, Shady. There's a backlash building. People are getting sick of healthy food trendiness, of out-of-control dietary restrictions, of having to warn and label for everything. If you'd been at the panel on Food Trends for 2014 you'd have heard all about it."  
  
"Sorry, I was having lunch with Strawberry and we ran late. She never skips dessert."  
  
"The point is, the opportunity is there for us next year to have a field day! Classic recipes are in; fusion and molecular gastronomy and fucking vegan/paleo/whatever bullshit is out!" He stood up now, gripping her shoulders, his eyes sparkling with excitement.  "I've been following the food bloggers and the 'in' chefs; they all are pushing how they want to 'reinvent the classics'. Old school red-gravy Italian is already trending in Chicago and looks to spread from there through the rest of America. Pasta marinara, eggplant parmesan...I was already talking with Garlic and Shellfish and I think Fra Diavolo could be a winning combination for us all; just think of all of the indigestion and anaphalactic shock we could induce together!"    
  
"Okay, okay, I get the picture." And dammit, how could she resist him and his ever-tempting enthusiasm? This close, she could feel the heat from his toasty body, breathe in the scent of him that always made her think of warm summer days running through fields of wheat, bees buzzing in her ears...the days when she was just beginning to ripen into maturity...  
  
He leaned in closer, angling for a kiss but she stopped him short, pressing fingertips against his lips. "Just promise me you're not weasel me into a three-way with Soy again. I'm tired of her trying to sneak into everything."  
  
Gluten shook his head emphatically and she dropped her hand. "No Soy. It'll be just like old times, Shady: you, me, and the rest of the Italian gang." This time she let him kiss her, just a taste and a tease of what was sure to come, and more than enough to remind her of how good they were together. Damnit, who could give up Gluten forever?  "Fancy a trip to Rome with me, after this? I think we have some...research...to do together."  
  
"Research, is that what they're calling it these days?" Maybe that early trip to the airport could wait, she thought, as Gluten started working on the buttons to her blouse. So much for resisting his ever-tempting ways.  
  
"Call it what you want, but nobody does it better than us, _amore mio_."  
  
And no, she _definitely_ couldn't argue with that.


End file.
